


Out of Left Field

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Post ep slash fic for "Field Trip". A new relationship is tested by the worst of circumstances.





	Out of Left Field

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Out of Left Field by frogdoggie and Mik

TITLE: Out of Left Field  
NAME: frogdoggie and Mik  
E-MAIL: or   
CATEGORY: SRA  
RATING: NC-17. M/SK. This story contains SLASH. VERY GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEX BETWEEN MEN. So, if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. Proceed with caution.  
SUMMARY: Post ep slash fic for "Field Trip". A new relationship is tested by the worst of circumstances. Missed a part of this story? Check here to find it:  
http://www.squidge.org/3wstop or Mik's site too at:  
http://members.theglobe.com/Mikdok  
FEEDBACK: YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN WE HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? Thanks! We need to build a very big bonfire so we can roast a few weenies!  
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: All episodes up to and including "Field Trip" in Season 6. Special emphasis on "SR819" and "Field Trip". We're ignoring "Biogenesis" because...well because we didn't like what it did to our man Skinner. So there.  
KEYWORDS: story angst slash Skinner Mulder NC-17  
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.  
*Author's notes:  
It's my honor to participate in this collaboration with my brother in arms, and fellow author, Mik. We've come up with a bit of point/counterpoint here, or if you prefer he said/he said. I've penned Skinner with input from Mik and Mik's Mulder response will follow, with some input from me as well. Enjoy. I did.  
\- frogdoggie  
...what he said. - Mik  
Trust no one? Au contraire. Susan...your beta Kung Fu is the best.

* * *

Out of Left Field  
by frogdoggie and Mik

May 10, 1999. A Delta Airlines Flight between Dulles Airport, Washington, DC and Asheville Regional Airport, Asheville, North Carolina.

This may be the longest hour and forty-eight minutes of my life. I ponder that thought as I watch the clouds float by below the plane wing. My Vietnam memories of waiting in a bunker for the next RPG that might be zeroing in on my nose hardly compare. I never thought I'd say that something could surpass that type of gut wrenching nervous fear - but this flight is almost going to do it. I can feel the panic and horror singing, deep down inside, and I can't shake the feeling no matter how hard I've tried to get it out of my bones.

I've attempted to still my thoughts but they keep rolling right back around to one point. One single solitary sickening idea. I keep hearing an inner voice repeating over and over 'He can't be gone. He can't be gone'. God damn it. He can't be gone - not this way. He can't be gone because I...I just found him.

Mulder. Damn you. When I do find you and Dana Scully I'm going to...hell what can I do? What can I possibly say to castigate either one of you? I signed the friggin' 302. I ok'd it and let you go down to North Carolina to investigate some erstwhile connection between -what was it? Right - 'The Brown Mountain Lights' and the discovery of human remains under very mysterious circumstances. I mean I allowed you to convince me there was probable cause to suspect two hapless campers were mutilated by aliens...dissected like...like those cows out West for Christ's sake. So, I'm as much to blame for what happened next as you are, Mulder.

The call came into the Hoover this morning. The call that told me you and Scully had gone missing on Brown Mountain. You both were gone without a trace the local PD said. Yeah, well fuck 'not a trace'. No one just disappears without a trace. Not even Spooky Mulder. Once more, I'll prove it as soon as I get down there. I'll find you both, and I pray to God I find you both alive.

Jesus. Now I know I've got it bad. All this time I thought...I kept thinking for months here that this was just about sex between Mulder and me. But now...well I'm not so sure. Nothing like thinking someone may be dead to force an issue, hey, Walter? Blow me. I should have had the guts to admit I loved Mulder the night I first fucked him. I mean it was there. I was just too much of a deluded coward to admit it to either one of us.

I can still hardly entertain the thought that we're lovers at all as a matter-of-fact. It wasn't something I ever expected to happen although I had thought about it almost every waking day since I met him a little over six years ago. But see...I had one problem - the idea that I lusted for Mulder was an 'impossibility'. You see...Walter S. Skinner was a hard assed ex-Marine, Assistant Director of the FBI - and he was straight damn it - and don't you ever think otherwise. Yeah, sure.

I denied my desires for men for years. Kept those needs secret as much as I could out of fear for my job, my reputation...my...well a dozen other idiotic reasons. I couldn't let on that I preferred men and in fact I married in order to camouflage my true inclinations. Oh sure, I told myself I loved Sharon at the time. Hell, maybe I did. We were certainly buddies at first. She was a friend. I did respect her. I respected her enough not to cheat on her during the years we were together. While we were together I was faithful. It's my nature. Oh sure, there have been a few women after her - whores even. I guess I was still trying to convince myself I could go straight.

Shit, I don't know. I guess I bought into that old adage that the love of a good woman could change me. I hate myself to this day for what I did to Sharon. She 'was' a good, decent woman and I really did her a disservice in marrying her. Her death...well her death hurt me more than I can say. Yeah, and sometimes I still miss her, against all reason some might say - but I do.

Our marriage failed through no fault of hers really. The fault lay more with 'yours truly' to be honest. All of it - especially the sexual side of it - well...the marriage just went to hell in a hand basket. We were a wreck sliding rapidly into a disaster after a while. Sharon and I hardly communicated with each other. Correction -I didn't communicate with her and after a while she gave up trying to communicate with me. But early on we had been happy. I think we still cared for each other even at the end. Christ...I was such a prick to her, though.

So, I succeeded in staying in the closet most of the time. Most, but not all the time to my great misfortune and everlasting regret. Yeah, there have been a few men. Before I was married to Sharon I fell off my self-imposed straight arrow wagon. I had three male lovers. One during the war, and two after I started with the Bureau. One...well only one of them I regret getting down on my knees for to this day. Sucking that bastard's cock was the biggest mistake I ever made in my life. To say I sold my soul to the devil for what I thought was...Christ how could I have been so naive? Why in the hell I ever trusted...gave myself to a monster like him is beyond the pale. But I did, and I paid...shit...I'm still paying...I'm...damn it to hell. I really do not want to think about that Morley smoking bastard right now. No, forget it. Not now. Not anymore.

At any rate, that brings me back to the idea that I was a coward not to say something to Mulder during the six plus years I was drooling and panting for his body. I just never let on for a plethora of reasons I started to list but won't bore you with by stating in full. Oh, I can pinpoint a few more - just for the record. Like why would he want a man for one thing? I'd never seen any evidence Mulder swung that way. And if he did like men, why would he want a middle-aged, pencil pushing surly bastard like me? He could have his choice of a hell of a lot better.

But I really didn't think he wanted a man anyway. I thought he was laying Scully. I was positive he was bedding her. In truth, I still think he's in love with her and if he isn't sleeping with her, well then...maybe he should be doing her. He should be making love with her because clearly they're devoted to each other. Mulder needs Scully like he needs air to breathe. I'm not sure why he needs me. He hasn't told me yet - unless of course you count the sex. Christ...he tells me he needs me for that with his body every time we're together. I don't know if he needs me for anything other than sex. But, I know I need him...and it appears I need him for a lot more than just getting my rocks off.

I probably needed him in a much deeper way since the first time we were together. I was just too dense to realize it. It probably became more than just sex shortly after that night he came to see me in my apartment. The night after that day in January I as much as kicked him and Scully out of my office. I denied their request to investigate who had infected me with the nanocytes. He was as angry as hell over it. Late that night he knocked on my door. I was up, of course, and still dressed, albeit in T-shirt and jeans at least, and not my FBI dayware. I answered his insistent rapping. I took one look at him standing in my open doorway, and I could tell he'd been drinking. He wasn't wasted - but I knew he'd had enough to screw up his nerve to come see me.

He demanded entrance, and an explanation, and God help me...I stepped aside and let him in. I should have slammed the door in his face - that would have been more typically me. But I wasn't in the mood to be typical that evening. No, I'd knocked back a few bourbons myself after dinner. I was more in the mood to fight actually. So was Mulder as it turned out.

He wanted me to come clean...to tell the truth. With Mulder it's always about 'The Truth'. I think he lives in a world of black and white, although he'd deny it. I've lived in a world made up of shades of gray for years. Billions and billions of shades of gray and sometimes I feel like I'm bleeding into them.

But that night, Mulder wanted to hear me confess my sins and the sins of the man who held my life in his hands. He wanted me to name names. Let him and Scully help me he said. Let him help he said. Let him in he implored. He was practically begging at first. I thought it was the need to know that was so important to him then. Maybe it was, but maybe it was something else. Like he cared about me? I still have hope that was the case. But, at any rate, I wouldn't come across. Wouldn't unburden. And I was damned if I'd let him in. Hell no. If I did I knew I'd never let him out again. It was a risk I thought I was unwilling to take.

I told him to get the fuck out finally. He told me to go to hell. We were shouting at each other. Standing toe to toe, yelling and spitting, at the last. We were red- faced, and I was telling him to shut up...my neighbors could probably hear and...I grabbed his arm to give him the bum's rush out the door and...Mulder took a swing at me. He caught me totally unaware and unprepared, the son of a bitch. He pulled back and connected all right. Shit, he clocked me right in the jaw. I saw red and then I saw the look of stunned surprise in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking. 'I'm a dead man' was written all over his face. And he might have been right for all he knew. My next actions certainly rammed that idea home.

I roared an inarticulate sound of rage and pain. I grabbed him by the arm, spun him around and slammed him up against the wall...hard. I'm still fast. Christ, the boxing's kept me quick. Mulder's split-second of shock over hitting me allowed me to catch him unaware as well. He was up against the wall and pinned under me before he knew what hit him. I wrenched his right arm up high on his back, and both of us were breathing like steam engines.

He still fought me. Mulder struggled like the angry dickhead he was that night. He sputtered and cursed too. I pressed against him harder and growled for him to shut the fuck up. "Be still," I said. He kept squirming and yeah - I'm embarrassed to admit it - the more he wriggled under me the more aroused I got.

I'd had to restrain him before. Several times. Each time I'd had to do it had been a trial for me. Whenever I'd had him in my arms it'd been a monumental exercise in self-control not to let him feel just what he was doing to me. Well...you can imagine what it must have been like. It was hard and I'm not even going to worry about the double entendre in those words. But that night I had just enough liquid liberation in me to not give a flying fuck. I was getting stiff and I didn't care if my cock was rubbing up his butt crack.

Finally his struggling really got to me. I jerked him towards me and then slammed him against the wall hard again. My snarl into his ear made even my teeth grind. "I could have you up on charges for this, boy," I spit at him.

"I'm not your boy," he replied in a low voice.

Something in me flared up then. Like a white-hot snake coiling out of my groin and striking right for my brain. I pressed my mouth to his ear and hissed, and my God if it didn't sound like that snake's sibilant voice as I spoke.

"Yet," I said, and I felt my cock twitch against his ass.

I swear on a stack of Bibles...I felt him shiver. A slow, rolling tremble slid through his whole body. He relaxed under me suddenly, sighing low, and I spun him round to face me. Time stopped in that moment. The whole world coalesced into just Mulder and me. He was close, so close...and his eyes...filled my whole field of vision. I thought I saw something in those hazel depths. There was a spark there. A glowing ember to match the heat that was building in my soul. He studied me closely for a moment, nostrils flaring, chest working up and down like a bellows. Then he struggled for control, gained calm, spoke quietly, and his one request almost stopped my breath in my chest.

"Now," he whispered...and I didn't wait for him to say anything else.

I groaned deep in my throat and pushed Mulder back against the wall again. His lips quirked into what I thought was a grin of pleasure and acceptance. I couldn't be sure though...I hardly noticed because I was grabbing his head so fast. I was beyond caring as testosterone took over completely. He did, however, bring his hands up onto my back and stroked me as I devoured his mouth. It was all the cue I needed to move full steam ahead. I was sucking, sucking his lips and then prying them open with my tongue. I shoved my tongue between his teeth and was met with...no resistance at all. He swallowed my tongue whole and we went to war, tasting and slobbering over each other like two horny teenagers. Mulder gripped my ass convulsively and I ground my cock into his crotch shamelessly, humping him like a stag in rut. He slid against me in return, grunting into my mouth.

Neither of us spoke a word for quite a while. I released his mouth and reached down, unzipped him, reached back, fumbling, unzipped myself. We shifted, twisted and danced together - got our stiffening cocks loose from the confines of our jeans. He fell against me, letting me hold him up, panting, gasping for breath as I gripped his hardening length in my hand. No preliminaries, no foreplay. I just shoved his cock up next to mine, pulled him close and started to pump against him, using my body weight and my hand to work us both up.

"God," he hissed against my neck, finding his voice.

"Oh yeah," I whispered, letting my cheek scrape over the side of his face, beard stubble meeting beard stubble like fine sandpaper.

Both of us bucked our hips together for several moments. Our sweat and pre-cum caused my hand to slip until he reached down and steadied my hand with his. Then both of us were cranking as one, and I lost time I think. I was suspended somewhere else, caught up in the heady sensation of being jerked off by someone who knows only too well how to give a great handjob.

Mulder's thrusting quickened suddenly and his head beat time against the wall as his hips pumped wildly against me. His ass muscles clenched and unclenched and then he went stiff under me, moaning loudly through a mouth stretched in a rictus of pleasure.

"Oh man," I breathed as his body jerked, convulsing. Semen shot out of him, squirting up onto his stomach and chest, over his clothing, and back down over my hand. I continued to stroke him, letting him ride the wave as long as he could. When he crashed back to earth, I caught him in my arms, and held him close as he came back to himself.

"Christ," he choked, grating out a chuckle.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I rumbled, chuckling a little myself.

He nodded against my neck and I could sense he was looking down at my unrelieved erection. I saw his larynx swallow spit with a labored gulp.

He pulled back slightly and looked in my eyes.

"We're not done yet," I assured him, letting my mouth twitch in a slight grin.

"Evidently," he replied, his eyes hooded, a slow smile playing about his lips.

Mulder moved to unbuckle his belt and I touched his hand, stilling it at his waist.

"Not here," I suggested.

He nodded again, and I took his hand and led him up to my bedroom. I turned on the night stand light and we undressed quickly. We hurried, not wanting to lose the momentum, not wanting to stop to talk, or think, or feel anything other than naked skin against naked skin.

We were quite naked on my bed in short order, wrestling, rolling -our bodies struggling in an imitation of our earlier verbal and physical sparing. But this struggle was deliberately meant to arouse. We took some trouble to find our hot spots. Communicating location was done with our hands, mouths and inarticulate grunts of animal enjoyment.

Necks, nipples, balls were all kissed, sucked, groped and in some cases nipped in the course of our exploration. Whatever worked to keep me just at the peak of coming and worked to get Mulder back in the swing of things. It didn't take Mulder too long to get it up again, despite the alcohol. We were ready for more fun after about a half hour of bump and grind.

I didn't bother to ask him if he'd done this before. I mean no guy's going to want to admit he's a virgin - with either gender. I think he could tell this wasn't my first time around the block. When I told him I wanted to fuck he said "Top or bottom?" and I got the idea he'd taken this walk on the wild side before as well.

I pushed him onto his back as my answer and he grabbed one of the bed pillows and shoved it under his hips in reply. I keep lube and condoms in the night stand. Lube for the nights Mr. Hand and I keep well-oiled company. Condoms for the nights when Mr. Hand and I actually do have company. Condoms are a necessity for me now even if I'm sure my partner is clean and/or on birth control. With the nanocytes...well I just don't know about my own status. Besides, a good Marine as well as a good Assistant Director always learns to be prepared for every eventuality.

I pulled out the supplies, and went about prepping Mulder, slowly and thoroughly. No matter how experienced we were, or how ready to explode, there's no excuse for poor preparation. Pain with your pleasure is sometimes inevitable with this kind of loving. The more you minimize or eliminate the unpleasant aspects, the more enjoyment for you and your partner.

I fumbled with the condom, almost dropped it. I managed at last to roll it down my cock. The lube was cold so I warmed it up before I probed between Mulder's butt cheeks. I had three fingers up his ass without too much trouble. We spent some time enjoying the feel of having my fingers pumping in and out of his body. He was tight but not too tight. Nice, and warm and so responsive. Christ, it was good. So good to see someone enjoy what I could do for them. Sublime to see a man enjoy my attentions.

I hoped to hell this was going to be good for us both. So far Mulder seemed to be enjoying it. God, I couldn't have asked for a better experience. I was certainly going to try to make this night something both of us would want to revisit again and again. So, it would be slow and steady and sensual as long as I could keep it up that way.

I avoided stroking his prostate. Not knowing his reactions there I didn't want to take the chance he'd lose the fine erection he was sporting. I could tell he was trying to hold back a little. I've found in my own experience, stroking my g-spot is the quickest way for me to shoot to the moon. No, I think Mulder and I were in the mood to preserve his hard-on. Yeah, I wanted to feel him come while I was in him too.

But...did I ask him if he wanted to come when I was inside him? Did I ask him to tell me if what I was doing felt right, felt good? No. There's another mental midget stereotype. Guys don't ask. They're supposed to have some Psychic Friends Network thing going when it comes to their partner's satisfaction. We're supposed to just know. Well hell yeah, I'm observant. I work for the damn FBI for God's sake. I'm a trained investigator. But...that's a crutch, an excuse for avoiding the issue of really sharing with a partner...of really hearing what they may want and need. So, I pretended I knew what he wanted the most and blundered on. Sometimes you luck out. Mulder moaned my name, the sound a near plea to take him higher as I finger fucked him with all the skill I could muster.

Finally neither one of us could take it any longer. Mulder was writhing under my hand, clenching at my fingers, trying to draw them in deeper. His movements, the moans he was making, the smell of his climbing arousal were making me hot beyond belief. I felt like I was going to go off like a rocket any minute. My balls felt like shot puts and my cock was throbbing.

"Come on," Mulder grunted, pushing his butt up towards me.

"Oh, yeah. I'm coming on," I rumbled, tapping his legs, indicating for him to lift them up.

I helped him place his legs over my shoulders and pushed my cock up close to his anus. I started to enter him with one slow, sure thrust accompanied by his tight grip on my arms and the sound of his voice stuttering, "Ggggod!"

"Stop?" I asked, my brow furrowing. I halted my forward progress, hesitating in case I was hurting him.

"No! Don't...don't stop. S'good. It's just been a while," he hissed out.

"Don't be a martyr," I growled in warning.

He coughed a chuckle and nodded his understanding. I moved on in, pushing steadily until I felt the ring of inner muscle pop and the head of my cock breach past it. I settled against him, my balls resting on his ass.

I think I had an inkling I was in love with him when I looked down into his eyes in that moment of joining. He'd had them shut until I stilled my hips and when his eyes slid open it was like a window opened up onto both our souls. Something grew in my guts and spread like warm, golden honey throughout my whole body. It flowed through me, claimed my heart and when it reached my brain its soft swirling heat said - 'this is love, Skinner, take its sweet sustenance into your soul'.

I should have known then...God I should have recognized...ah hell. I saw something yearning up from those hazel depths to match what was swelling in the core of my being. I saw my want and my need to be accepted, respected, protected and loved by another human being reflected right back at me from my lover's eyes. I also saw Mulder try to hide it and I knew...God help us both...I knew I was hiding it all too. I didn't know what to think, or be, or do...but I wanted to say something, do something to show...I answered that look the only way I could that night. I replied by rocking back and then giving a slow, deep thrust forward into ecstasy.

After that it was pandemonium. No more words...just frenzied movement. My driving hips against Mulder's exquisitely muscled, sweating, bucking ass. God, there's nothing better than a hot, tight ride. A ride you know both of you are into with every fiber of your heart, mind and soul. Once we found a good rhythm we took a few minutes to watch each other fucking ourselves into oblivion. I never saw something as fine as Mulder lost in passion. God damn...never. Knowing I was making him scream, making him beg me to fuck him hard and fast caused me to lose it completely. I practically pounded him through the mattress until I could hardly breathe from the effort and his eyes were rolling up in his head.

Both of use were starting to tremble and pant as we approached the point of no return. I was bowed so tight over Mulder that my stomach was mashing his cock between us. The friction was almost enough. I could feel him starting to tense under me, his balls pulling up. I stroked upward inside him, found his prostate and with a guttural cry he came again, shaking and spurting cum in milky tendrils. He didn't shoot quite as forcefully this time but the climax seemed almost as intense as before. Inside it felt like a vice grip on my cock. As Mulder arched up, rocking his hips hard against mine, I threw my head back and screamed to God to let it go on forever as I crashed over the edge into blinding and blissful orgasmic release.

We collapsed sideways in a tangle of arms and legs. I didn't even have time to think about the condom. I felt myself starting to pop out of him. I shifted, grabbing myself to stop my semen from back-flowing. I held the condom flush with my cock, exerted a gentle tug and pulled out. Mulder rolled sideways onto his back, his breath coming in labored gasps. I quickly divested myself of the rubber, tied off the top and dropped it over the bedside into the trash can under my night stand.

I lay there gasping right along with Mulder. Neither of us could speak for several minutes. Finally, when I got my wind back a little I rolled onto my side, propped myself up on one elbow and gazed down into my partner's face. Performance anxiety. The moment of truth. Does he look well fucked? I finally wanted to ask, after the fact, what every guy wants to know. I wanted to ask - was it good for you too?

Mulder's jaws were working however, interrupting my train of thought. He was trying to speak. I thought, well you know, in my foolish pride, I thought maybe he was going to actually tell me how good it was for him. What a great stud I was in the sack. He spoke all right. You know what he said? You know what the first words were out of his mouth?

"Now will you tell me who put those things in you?" Mulder whispered.

I just stared at his so serious, sweating face in amazement. I know I should have been angry. I should have shoved him out of the bed and kicked his ass out the door. But you know...it was so Mulder. So, obsessively compulsive Mulder that he could be lying there next to me, cum drunk and half fuck blind, his sticky semen drying on his stomach and my stomach as well, and gasping "Sir, really...I think you should tell me now. I was serious about wanting to help."

Sir? This was almost surreal. Too much for me, the irony of the situation. So, instead of busting his chops or wringing his neck...I sighed in resignation and fell flat on my back to study the ceiling. It was his turn to lever up and stare down at me.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Mulder, can you at least dispense with the sir?"

"Sorry, uh..."

"Walter will do," I replied, shutting my eyes for a moment.

I felt his long fingers brush lightly against my forehead, brushing the sweat that was trickling down away from its hasty track towards my eyes. What happened next was pretty much my undoing I guess. He bent forward and kissed where his fingers had traced across my brow. His lips brushed my skin, feather light, and he whispered, the words trailing across my flesh.

"I'm sorry...Walter. I...shouldn't have said that just then. I should have said...it was good. Seriously. You were...you were great."

I opened my eyes and caught his momentary unprotected expression of tenderness for me.

"Krycek," I whispered, and I watched his whole body coil into a tight spring.

Anger flooded his face, deepening the flush of sexual satiation that was already there. He sat up next to me, practically vibrating with the force of his ire. I sat up too and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Mulder...this is...well...this is why I didn't want to tell you..." I began. He turned and pinned my eyes.

"This?" he asked, squinting at me.

I had my moment then. I should have said - yes...THIS. All of this. The fact that I'm falling in love...shit...I've probably been in love with you for years. The fact that I need your love to beat back the loneliness...to feel whole...to feel human. The fact that with love comes complications. Complications like the probably misguided wish to lighten your burden...to protect you from the darkness that burden brings. It's a misguided wish because you'd hate for me to be overprotective. You'd rebel anyway...I wouldn't expect you to do anything less. I wouldn't expect you to do less because I'd do the same thing if it were me.

But that still doesn't negate the fact that if I told you it would be tantamount to unleashing the dogs of war and I'm not sure I'm, much less you and Scully, are up for a new battle on top of everything else. I just can't find it in my heart to jeopardize someone I love over my own issues when that person has so many of his own issues, his own quest. Never mind that this is probably part of that quest. It's not fair for him or Scully to shoulder my load, and it's way too dangerous. But I knew making excuses to him would do little good. This hound had the scent now. He was ready to hunt. I couldn't keep him out of the field even if I chained him up to the kennel. So, instead of even answering his question I just plunged on, looking away from his eyes as I did.

"I just want you to promise me one thing Mulder. When and if you find that bastard, make it a clean bust. Bring him in so we can interrogate him properly, all nice and legal this time. I need answers...fuck...we all need answers."

I felt Mulder shift impatiently next to me so I added quietly, "Bring him in clean, Mulder. If for nothing else so I can ask him why, all right? He holds my life, quite literally, in his hands. I'd at least like to know why."

I looked over at him then, and his face and body relaxed against me as he realized the implication of my words. He nodded solemnly and turned into my body slightly.

"Deal?" I asked pressing the issue home.

"Deal," he breathed against my neck.

I nodded against him and reached up to ruffle his hair.

"I gotta clean up," I grunted, shifting away from him. I touched his cheek and kissed him tentatively on the mouth. He kissed me back, very slowly in return, and mumbled, smiling against my lips.

"Could you bring back a washcloth? You wore me out, Walter."

I grinned then into his smirking face, broke away and made my exit to the bathroom. We ended up rubbing each other down, standing next to the side of the bed. It was rather nice, showing each other that consideration. Both of us were yawning, our eyelids drooping by the time the washcloths and damp towels were thrown in a heap on the floor. I'll get them tomorrow I thought, my mind growing foggy.

I pulled Mulder close, and lay back down on the bed, drawing him with me. He slumped bonelessly over me, placing his head on my chest, and I stroked his hair. I reached down, pulled the blankets up to cover us, and stretched to turn off the light.

"I take it this means I'm staying the night," he sighed in contentment as I plunged the room into darkness.

"Yes, I guess it does," I replied quietly, running my hand over his shoulder.

"You want to talk about anything else?" he asked tentatively.

"No, go to sleep now. We...we can talk in the morning."

"Right," he murmured into my pectoral. "Nice pillow," he added, snuffling my chest hair...and then he drifted off to sleep.

I lay awake for a short time longer watching him sleep, touching his hair gently. I marveled at the mixture of soft and hard textures that made up his body. I reveled in his scent, imprinting his after sex smell in my mind.

I got busy telling myself yeah, we'd talk in the morning. Sure, we needed to clear the air. Define things. Set boundaries. Make arrangements. Decide...oh a total load of bullshit. I didn't want to talk about 'it', 'this', 'us'...and I didn't think he did either -not really. I fell asleep with my head resting on his head, and thoughts that my theory was probably planted firmly in both our heads sending me to dreamland.

My theory was proven fact in the morning when I woke and Mulder was gone. There was a note of course. 'I'll call you' it said.

He did call. He's as good as his word after all. Our schedules don't often mesh. At first they didn't at all when he and Scully were still assigned to Kersh. After their reassignment to me we were able to see a little more of each other. It wasn't easy with things like the Consortium's incineration, and some maniac almost ripping Scully's heart out getting in the way, but we managed to see each other.

I...I came to value our times together more than I wanted to admit. It's difficult to latch onto the fact that after years of denial, masking years of searching, you may have found what you're looking for in the way of love and true happiness. It's doubly difficult when the object of your affection isn't forthcoming with his true feelings either. Really hard when your uncommunicative lover is running off to investigate some Tibetan demon running amuck as a garbage monster in a planned suburban hell-hole somewhere. The fact that he was undercover as married to Dana Scully on that assignment didn't help matters either I might add. What an asshole I am though. Jealous and I haven't even, as the saying goes, declared my intentions. Shit.

And listen...this whole uncommunicative thing smacks of deja vu anyway. Talk about reliving your own worst nightmare. Oh yeah. Walter Skinner is definitely the pot calling the kettle black in this scenario. Jesus.

But, since our first night together we've gotten together periodically and Mulder seems to enjoy it as much as I do. Just simple - I hesitate to say 'dates' but yeah that's what I'd have to say they are, I suppose. Dinner out or at my apartment. I go to a lot of trouble having the place debugged after all, so it's passable as a place to rendezvous. We've gone to a movie here and there. Rented some videos on occasion. Hey, real films, not Mulder's usual oeuvre. We attended the odd basketball game when the season started. We've been fucking each other senseless every chance we can get. The sex is good. God, more than good. It's mind-blowing.

But still we don't or won't talk about what really matters. I love him. I know I love him. I want to tell him but...I'm too fucking bull-headed now...or afraid of what he'll say...that he'll just laugh in my face or...whatever. But hell, he's keeping his own counsel about us as well. Maybe he's afraid too. Either afraid....or not in love with me or...or...well fuck he hasn't said anything to me either. We talk about every other thing under the sun except for personal issues and both of us are too friggin' stubborn to deal with the truth. I said it was always about the truth with Mulder? Yeah...well everyone else's truth and not his own it seems. And I'm living up to my gray reputation. I'm practically bleeding shades of fuzzy gray thinking out my ears. I can't take a stand in this now and it's driving me crazy.

It's a pretty sorry state of affairs when a man my age can't be forthcoming to save his soul. Because right now, sitting on this plane, I believe it is about saving my soul. Saving both our souls quite possibly.

God, I cannot believe he's gone missing...that he might be gone forever. He can't be gone...I just found him and more important...I just found myself. I never got to hold him close and tell him I loved him. Tell him the real truth is that I never want him to leave and I'll be there for him no matter what happens. Christ...that's a noble pronouncement that doesn't fit the facts. Oh yeah, I never want him to leave, of course that's true. But, I can't guarantee the other half of that vow thanks to Krycek no matter how much I want to make it so. Yeah, it's a little hard to be there if you're six feet under. But I can guarantee my love for him and no matter what, it will last forever. I can vow that's true most vehemently. I just have to hope I can find him and Scully so that I can tell him it's about more than sex for me now. We're about a lot more. A hell of a lot more.

xXx

May 10, 1999. 3 PM. Up on Brown Mountain. Near Asheville, North Carolina.

The fog in my face-mask almost causes me to miss seeing his hand. I cough, clearing my view and there it is - his long, graceful fingers clawing up out of the dirt, reaching towards the sun, towards me, towards freedom. I surge forward, yelling to the other men, my voice muffled in plastic and barely constrained panic.

"Over here! Over here!" I shout to the local coroner, and assembled Bureau field office agents.

We surround his reaching hand, falling to our knees almost simultaneously. We're all digging frantically, hauling dirt aside with our bare hands, prying, pulling, trying to force the Earth to give birth to the man she holds tightly in her womb.

"Hurry up! Get him out! Get him out! Keep digging! She's down here! Pull her up. Get her out," I continue to shout.

Scully. Christ. I can just glimpse Agent Scully too. Thank God. We've found them both. The group renews its digging. Mulder is finally pulled out, barely breathing. Scully follows. Both of them are coated with mud, some kind of oozing yellow glop...and their skin looks like they've got a first degree sunburn. The coroner feels for Mulder's pulse and then Scully's as well. I hold my breath, trying to catch the man's eyes as he concentrates. He nods in satisfaction.

"He's alive," he says, nodding at me, a terse smile on his lips, "So is she."

Relief floods through my body. I'm reborn in that moment as well. I let out the breath I hardly knew I was holding, suck in a great gulp of air, and give silent thanks to whatever God is smiling down on this North Carolina mountain. The coroner looks at me oddly because I'm gulping like a fish and my face must be showing some emotion that isn't exactly professional concern. Fuck. I struggle to rein it in, give him my best hard assed AD scowl and bark out a command.

"Get the EMTs!"

His rushed exit from my side gives me a few precious seconds alone with Mulder. His lips are moving but no sound is coming out. Scully groans on the ground next to us.

"Mushroom," she mumbles, coughing deeply.

The coroner comes back, and hurries to reassure her, as I do, after him.

"We found it. Just take it easy Agent," he says as the EMTs bring over the first stretcher.

"Take it easy, Scully, we're handling it. It's all right, you're both safe," I add. Then the EMTs are gently lifting her onto the gurney and I turn my attention to Mulder again.

He's still trying to articulate something and I bend close to hear what he has to say. Tears are dangerously close to welling up in my eyes as I watch him try to enunciate his thoughts through dry, cracked, dirt covered lips.

"Scully," he whispers in my ear. "Scully...is she..."

"She's all right, Mulder," I reply, murmuring to him. I risk taking his hand and give it a tiny, brief squeeze. He blinks at me in bewilderment, his eyes roving about in desperate longing.

"Scully!" he cries hoarsely.

My gut clenches going into, God help me, a spasmodic dance of disappointment. My mind seizes one thought and worries it like a dog with a bone. /It's me he should be calling for, not her, not Scully/. The idea shakes me up, and it hurts. I can feel its teeth as it grinds. The thought races through my mind even though I know having him scream for me is the last thing I'd want him to do. Having him scream for me with desperate longing so all the world would know we were more than just supervisor and subordinate is a totally foolish wish. It's completely foolhardy to want him to turn to me for comfort. But God, I want him to call my name.

My face reddens in shame. I'm ashamed that I'm jealous when it's obvious he's delirious and hardly knows where he is much less that I'm here. I'm ashamed that I'm embarrassed of the love I feel for him. I almost cringe in disgust at the crushing need to keep our relationship under wraps and hidden from view. And Jesus, I despise myself for not having the guts to tell him I love him so he just might know I was there somehow and take even silent comfort in my presence. My hands ball into fists and I roar at the EMTs as they're lifting Scully into the back of their ambulance.

"What about this man, God damn it? Bring the other stretcher NOW!"

I watch as they load Mulder into the back of the ambulance and clamp his gurney down next to his partner's bed. I stand mute with worry, trying to maintain AD Walter S. Skinner at all costs as the EMTs start to slam the ambulance door shut.

As the vehicle's doors swing shut and I'm at the low point of all my mental self flagellation, I just catch sight of something that pretty much puts the cap on my full tilt guilt boogie. I see Mulder, my lover, weakly turn his head to stare over at the stretcher next to him, at his partner, Dana Scully. I see him extend his arm and flex those long, elegant fingers again, this time reaching to span the distance between the gurneys. I watch as Scully, without even looking, groggily reaches out her hand, finds his, and grasps it tightly.

I watch him watch her, and as the ambulance doors slam shut, I know I was really too late after all, and I know...I know he's as good as gone for sure.

XXX

Dirt. Why do I taste dirt?

\-------

I'm tired. I want to go back to sleep. Why won't they let me sleep?

\-------

What is this awful taste? Dirty salad. And it stinks in here. What is that awful smell?

My arms won't work. What's wrong with my arms? And my eyes? Shit, my eyes won't...am I blind? How could I be blind? Where's Walter, he'll fix this. Where the hell is - holy shit. I shot him.

Oh, my God. I shot Walter. Look, I don't know who you are, but leave me the hell alone. I shot Walter. Somebody get me out of this damned bed right...no, I don't want another shot. No, I need to stay awake this time...I need to figure this...I need to...I need...

\-------

I need a drink of water. I must have a pound of mud in my mouth. Oh, shit, I've been intubated again. Damn it, I hate it when that happens. I'll bet they've...yep, cathed, too. If I could open my eyes, or move my hands, someone would be paying for this.

What the hell happened? One minute I was talking to Scully in Skinner's office and the next minute...everything's fuzzy. I think...I couldn't have...but I think I shot Walter Skinner. Damn it, my eyes are killing me.

Okay, Mulder, think. Did you shoot him? Why would you shoot him? You wouldn't shoot him.

But I can see it so clearly. It's the only thing I can see. My gun. His chest. The bullets. Bam, bam, bam! Oh, God, what did I do?

Oh, shit, not another shot. I'll be still, I swear, just let me have some time to think this...

\-------

I want to swallow. I would give my right arm to swallow. If I could feel my right arm. Maybe I already gave it. Okay, I call. Let me swallow now, please. Time to get some things established. Do the inventory. You're in the hospital. You've had tubes and needles stuck down every orifice and they've created a couple new ones for you. Your mouth tastes like the back of a gardener's pick-up after fertilizer day. Yep. Hospital all right. Why?

Try to remember. Come on, Mulder, what do you remember? Nanocytes. No, no, that was Skinner, not me. Remember. You went to his place and he...and you...that was the night... That was the night everything changed.

Don't think about that. Think about a couple of bodies found...a couple of bodies. That's what we were that night, just bodies. We had clearly lost our minds. I can't believe we ended up rutting like deranged moose. Don't think about it, don't think about it, damn it don't THINK about it, not with that that...oh shit. Nothing like an erection when you're cathed. Oh, man, I'd give my right arm for my right hand right now.

Okay, the truth is he was incredible. It's been a long time since I've let a guy get a dick's eye view of me, but he had me so hot so fast I didn't have time to think of the ramifications aside from the ramming he was doing.

But, there were. Still are. He's my superior. He's my fucking boss! Huh. That could mean two different things depending on where you put the emphasis. What the hell's in this IV?

Okay, Mulder, focus. Where are we going here? That's an interesting question. Where ARE we going? Over the last couple of months we've had some great fuck dates. Time filled up with the process; dinners, sports, movies and then home to dine on one another and engage in sports they make movies about. Not a lot of deep conversation, unless grunting and moaning count.

No. Stop that. Don't think about it. Think about why you're in the hospital in full strap down with bandages on your eyes and one tube down your throat and another up your dick? Think. Come on....what's that old joke? Don't think about monkeys? Just think about hot monkey sex. Oh, shit, here we go again. What's that? Different nurse. Different perfume. Must be time to change the IV. Thank you, nurse, can I have a double?

My arm's cold. The saline's always a shock when it hits the system. Oh, no, what did they put in this one? I don't want to sleep. I've got to think this through. Come on. Give me fifteen minutes to...

"Shh...it will be all right, Mr. Mulder."

\-------

Bam, bam, bam!

Oh, shit. I did kill him. Why? Things had been going so good.

That ratbastard nearly killed him. I just wanted to know who and how and why. I wanted to save him. Well, there's a rich little irony for you, Mulder. You were going to save him, so why did you shoot him three times in the chest? Well, there's always been something violent about us, typical psycho-homo-sexual dominance dance. Usually he leads, but I got him a couple of times, didn't I? That first night, I got a good swing at him. If I think about it, I can still feel the way his jaw felt when I made contact. Like smacking a speeding brick wall, just about drove my knuckles into my shoulder blades. And the look on his face. Murderous. And...and...hot.

I'm not a romantic, but I could swear that at some point that night, things changed for me. Now, that's stupid. But, there was that one moment when it wasn't sex, it was...connection. It was as if he was fucking me through my eyes, not my ass. I don't know. That's just stupid.

We slept together that night. Curled up, cuddled up. Cuddled! Fox William Fuck-up-of-the-Year Mulder does not cuddle. Fox Mulder grunts, rolls over and grabs his pants. Apparently Skinner cuddles. Apparently he gets up and washes up and comforts and cuddles. And snores. And then gets up the next morning and fixes coffee. Huh.

Work got hard. Right away it got hard. Especially when that bastard Kersh was still our supervisor. Once Skinner got his hands on us again, it was easier for him to get his hands on me. But, having to sit across a desk from him on a Monday morning after spending a weekend under him was hard. Never seemed to bother him. He did that 'business as usual' crap good. Well, hell, he was...is...was a born bureaucrat. Was. Is? Was.

Was that why? Did I just lose it because I couldn't take the strain of hating him during the day and loving him at night?

Wait a minute. Who said love? I didn't say it. No, not me. Sex, that's what I meant. Good, hot lovin'. And it was good. It was hot. And it was...okay, it was love. Damn it. Why? Why did I do it? Why the hell can't I remember? I remember every shitty detail of every shitty assignment I've ever had. I remember the sting of every boot to my head, every sling and arrow from everyone who ever got within swinging distance of me. Why can't I remember how I came to be tied down in a hospital, drugged to the gills? (Where the hell did that expression come from? I don't have gills. I'm pretty sure most humans don't.)

"Shh, Mr. Mulder, be still. You're going to hurt yourself thrashing around like that. Are you in pain?"

Ha ha. Ask me another one. You think I'm in pain? Let me shove this fucking plastic exhaust pipe down your throat, and I'll ask you that question.

"I'll get the doctor."

I don't want a doctor. I want some answers. I want Scully. I want...I want Walter.

"He was banging his head against the rail. I'm really afraid he's going to hurt himself."

"Give him Ativan 2 mg IVP."

No. No more Ativan. I need to finish this. I need to. Don't you understand?

"Mr. Mulder, please, lay still. I know you're in pain. I understand. But you're making it worse thrashing around like this. That's good. That's much better. You'll feel better once you've slept."

No. I'll never be better. Can't you see that? I ...shot...Walt...

\-------

The earth just swallowed me up. I'm drowning in dirt. I'm drowning in dark brown...eyes. Walter has brown eyes. Amazing. I never noticed them 'til we were standing nose to nose in his living room, and he was ready to beat the shit out of me. I was swallowed up in those eyes. I remember that feeling, I remember thinking, 'I'm lost'. I am lost.

I wonder if this scared him, too. I wonder if he looked at me and started doubting his sanity. I mean, come ON, screwing another guy is bad enough in this business, but screwing Spooky Mulder? That's cause to put him on a 5150, right there.

I think, the morning after that first night, we would both have walked away, shaking hands and agreeing it was a mistake and no sense mentioning it again. So why didn't we? Haven't a fucking clue. Within two days something inside me was aching. I wanted to be with him again, just be near him. So I called him, made some stupid joke, which he graciously overlooked, and agreed to meet me. I would have been happy to sit next to him in a bar, not saying a word. But we didn't. We took it on home, to bed.

We took everything to bed. Couldn't sit through a movie without starting to calculate how long it would take to get to the end, out of the theater, into the car, home and in bed. Never ordered dessert in a restaurant. The flattering thing was that he seemed to want me as much as I wanted him. Outside the Bureau, that is. Inside the JEH, he didn't seem to know me - at least, not in the Biblical sense. He still scowled when he saw me coming, still said my name with a tired sigh.

I think it started to get to me. Once I thought I might ask him how he felt about me, but he started talking the game we'd watched the night before and I just let it go. Look, I know guys don't say it, but that doesn't mean we don't like to hear it. I think I would have liked to hear it, but I don't think I ever will. It took him a long time to tolerate me, and I think he learned to like me. Asking for love just might have been asking for too much.

The story of my life. Asking for too much. All I want to know now is why did I shoot him? Is that too much to ask?

\-------

"Mulder?"

Ah, the voice of an angel.

"Mulder, it's me. Can you hear me?"

Her hand feels good on my face. Always such a soft touch, that Scully.

"Nod if you can hear me."

Yes, Scully, I can hear you.

"You said he's breathing on his own now. Why is he still intubated?"

"He's been having these panic attacks and he seems to stop breathing."

"Wouldn't you have panic attacks if you woke up and you were blind and unable to move and had a tube down your throat?"

Blind? I'm blind?

"I'll mention it to the doctor."

I'm blind?

"It's all right, Mulder. I'll get that damn thing out if I have to do it myself, okay?"

Am I really blind? Why? What happened?

"Mulder, lay still, please. You'll be all right, if you'll just lay still."

Oh, that's it, just keep brushing your fingers through my hair. That's always felt so good.

"Mulder, the reason your eyes have been bandaged is because you were exposed to hydrochloric acid. We both were. Do you remember?"

No. I don't...oh, that would have explained that sour smell.

"We don't know the extent of the damage. You were badly burned. They'll be removing the bandages this afternoon and we'll know better then. They intubated you because you had inhaled it and were having difficulty breathing. You're doing better now. Your labs came back good."

Warm lips. She kissed my cheek. She couldn't kiss my cheek and hate me. And I couldn't shoot Walter and not have her hate me. This is good.

"I have to go back to my room now. I'll see you later."

Room? Scully, why do you need a room? Are you hurt? Did I shoot you, too? Damn it, Scully, come back here.

"Mulder, stop it, you're going to pull your line free. Stop it."

That's okay. Just stay here. Just touch me. It feels good. Reminds me of when Walter touched me. He didn't touch me much unless it involved sex, but there were a couple of times. Once, I borrowed his shower, and he came in, halfway through, and just stood behind me, his arm around my chest, and held me to him. Didn't say anything, didn't try to initiate any further contact. Just held me. I miss his touch. What the hell made me shoot him?

"Is he asleep?"

"I think so."

\-------

Throat. Hurts.

"Shh, Mulder. Have some water. It's okay. They took the tube out."

\-------

"Scully?"

Silence. I must have dreamed it. I thought I heard her. Thought I felt her.

Okay. Things are starting to make sense. I was exposed to hydrochloric acid. I guess I went a little crazy. I shot him. Oh, Walter, God, I'm sorry.

No wonder they've got me strapped down and doped up. They don't know when I'll lose control again. I don't blame them. If I went nuts and shot my partner and lover...

Lover. Not a fuck buddy. Lover. Huh.

I guess he really was a lover. He could be so damn gentle. He's such a big, surly bear that the gentleness always caught me by surprise. And he was gentle in odd ways. Always willing to get up when we were both drained and clean us up. Me, I would have fallen asleep in a pool of my own cum and suffer the consequences. Not Walter. I don't know if he did that for me or for himself, but I certainly benefited from it. One time, sitting next to him in a movie theater, I had thrown my jacket over my lap and was trying very hard to sit up and not snuggle, and he very casually slid his hand under my jacket and rested his hand on my thigh. Shit. Third degree burns in the shape of a paw -right through the slacks and onto my flesh. It felt so good I wanted to start baying at the moon. He didn't try to grope me, just put his hand there. If he had moved so much as a fingertip toward my dick, I swear I would have started whimpering like a puppy right there.

How could I blow all that away? I know it must have been some chemical I was exposed to. It had to be. I couldn't have wanted to do it. No matter how much he pissed me off sometimes. No matter how many times he dismissed me with a look that actually hurt. No matter how many times he sent me back to the basement wondering if he was tired of me, ready to end it. No matter how confused I got, trying to reconcile the lover with the cold-hearted bastard I worked for. No matter how many times I wanted to shake him and force him to admit that he had to struggle with his feelings too. Oh, God, I wanted to hear him say it. I can't believe it.

Time for another shot? Sure. Go ahead. I'd just as soon not think anymore.

And, by the way, God, if You're listening? I'm really REALLY sorry.

\-------

"...never told you how much it mattered to me that you felt so driven to find out who infected me. I should have told you. Instead, I nearly beat the shit out of you. Well, you got in a couple of good punches, I must admit. Who would have thought a skinny brat like you actually had a hard right?"

Somebody, turn off the television, please? I'd like to die in peace.

"You've done a lot of foolhardy things in all the years I've known you, but you've always done them for good reasons. And, disobeying a direct order was the most foolish of the foolhardy, so I guess...I mean, if you did it for me, then I was a good reason for you, right? I know I'm not making any sense. I haven't slept in three days. You've been sleeping for both of us."

I don't know who you are, buddy, but you talk too much. Go home, take a nap and come back after I'm dead.

"Anyway, I wanted to tell you it mattered. A lot of things you do matter. In fact...well...YOU matter. I guess I should have said that a long time ago, too. I...fuck, I don't speech make the way you can, Mulder. You know what I want to say, you know what I mean. I...uh...well, you know what I mean."

Fingers curling around mine. Warm, slow deep voice. Someone saying my name. Either I'm already dead, or...

"Well. Now, what's all this business about you hurting yourself, tearing out your IVs so that they had to strap you down? You need to get better, and get your ass back to Washington. Your country needs you, boy. I...I need you."

Small smile. Struggle to make the words come out. "I'm not your boy."

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to know that Shakespeare didn't learn anything from you."

"Asshole."

Oh, good, laughter. His laughter. His fingers squeezing mine. "You okay, Walter?"

"I am now." Fingers working through my hair. "You scared me shitless."

"Walter? Did I...um...I didn't...like...you know, shoot you, or anything, did I?"

"No. Were you planning to?"

"No." Deep, grateful sigh. "Not today." Shifting slightly, wishing I could see him. "How's Scully?"

His fingers tighten in my hair. "She's fine. They're going to discharge her today."

Relief. "Oh, thank God." Dread. Why not me? "Why not me?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Mulder, you're still in bandages and attached to a plastic bag on a metal pole."

"Why?"

"Mostly to keep the Ativan flowing at this point. I hear you've been very agitated in your sleep."

"I wasn't asleep, but I had a tube down my throat so I couldn't tell them I was awake."

"Don't snarl at me, Mulder. I'm not the one who put the tube there."

"No, but I know what I'd LIKE -"

"Mulder, hush. Someone will hear you."

I can't help grinning. "God, Walter, you are such a prude."

Something changes in him. I can't see it, I can't hear it, but I FEEL it. Something seems somehow settled, as if he had been undecided, and now has decided. "I'll show you prude."

Uh oh, bedclothes pushed aside, a big hand on my thigh. "Come on, Walter, don't. You ever have an erection with a catheter?"

"They took the catheter out, Mulder. Can't you feel the difference? You clearly need a little stimulation to get the feeling back."

"No, come on, Walter, don't. Stop it, that tickles. That...shit, Walter, come ON."

"Go ahead. I like it when you squirm."

Thumb dragging over the glans. "Have a little heart, Walter. I'm tied down, here."

"Yeah, and I have to say, the strapped down look becomes you." His hand is cupping my balls. "I'm thinking we must try out the handcuffs when you get home."

"Walter...come...on..." Just touch me a little higher...yeah, oh, yeah, right there. Hand jerked away. What the fuck?

"You'll have to wait outside, sir." Disapproving tone. A voice that could run down small tanks. "We're going to remove the bandages."

Oh, shit. I know I'm beet red. I can feel my face burning. I think I can feel HIS burning. "No." My voice still sounds like I gargled with steel wool and lye. "I want him here. He's my...my boss."

Well, all ardor cooled. Embarrassment and fear are a great cocktail for limp-dick. What if they take the bandages off and I can't see? End of career. End of search for Samantha. End of...us?

A hand on mine. Strong, firm, soothing. Squeezes slightly. "I'll stay right here, Agent Mulder."

Scissors. I hear them first, that metallic snip of them being tested on air. Then feel them against my cheek as they are positioned to cut away the bandage. The pressure of fingertips easing tape away. Unexpected whiteness as thick pads of gauze are removed.

"Open your eyes, Mr. Mulder?"

Please God, please God, pleaseGodpleaseGodpleaseGod. The doctor's black, strong dark face, curious, thoughtful eyes. The nurse with the mack truck voice is about four foot eight. Oh, God I love irony. I turn my head. Walter's there. Smiling at me. I smile back. Can't help it. Let them think what they may. I don't care.

"I assume you can see?" the doctor asks.

"Yeah. Fine. Everything looks..." Shit, I love it when Walter smiles. "Fine."

"Excellent. The nurse is going to give you something to wash them out."

"Do you really think the strap downs are still necessary?"

Bless you, Walter.

The doctor looks down, as if surprised to see that they even exist. "How's the pain, Mr. Mulder?"

"No pain," I promise.

He rips at one, and the sound of velcro releasing is like a heavenly choir at that moment. Walter tugs at the other one. "We can probably get you on pain meds by mouth. See to his IV, will you?" he says to the nurse.

\-------

"This one on your neck's going to leave an interesting scar."

I nod against his shoulder. "Yeah. And one on my back. I can feel it. I think the rest will heal all right."

"Come on, lay back. One more night and you can go home."

I grope for his hand. "Thanks for coming down here."

He looks surprised. "Why wouldn't I come down here? Two of my agents disappear from an assignment I sent them on? Of course, I would come to investigate."

Oh, right. I let him go. "Well...thank you, anyway."

He pauses at the foot of the bed, fussing with the chart clip. "And I...uh..." He stops, glances around the room, does that neck twitch thing he does when he's overwrought about something - I have that effect on him. "I needed to tell you something." He looks around again. "Well, ask you something."

He returns to the side of the bed. "You and Agent Scully...I'm not asking as your A.D. I'm asking as...uh...your...uh...friend."

"What are you asking...uh...friend?"

"Your relationship with her, it hasn't...that is to say...it never..."

"I'm not sleeping with her, Walter. I never have."

"But, you love her."

Oh, so THAT's what this is all about. "Yes. I love her. She is my partner. She is my friend. She is my advocate."

"You..." He's struggling. I can FEEL it. It makes me ache. "When they pulled you up...in the back of the ambulance...you...reached for her."

"I did? Of course I did. I'm not denying we're close, Walter. We're so close she could drink dye and I could piss green at this point, but she is not my lover. Never my lover."

I'm glad I could see the tension drain away this time. He leans over the bed, presses his mouth to mine.

The sensation goes directly to my cock, but it does make a brief detour around my heart. Using one of my recently freed hands, I catch the back of his neck. "You," I say against his mouth. "You are my lover." I pull back and search his eyes. "And..." Well, shit, maybe he needs to hear it, too. "And you're my friend." What a fucking coward, Mulder. "No, what I mean is that I...that you..." I stop and look up at him, almost helplessly. I don't know how to say it, either.

He draws a deep breath, strokes my cheek. "I came down here to tell you that I love you."

Thank you, God, for listening.

-THE END-


End file.
